


You're Doing So Well

by blithelybonny



Series: The Lusty Month of May [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aftercare, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, M/M, Masturbation, Merry Month of Masturbation Challenge, Orgasm Control, Praise Kink, Subspace, dom!draco, sub!Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-05-29
Packaged: 2018-07-10 20:46:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7005766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithelybonny/pseuds/blithelybonny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco provides Harry with the best way to release the tension of a bad day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're Doing So Well

He can tell that Harry’s had a rough day at work from the practically-visible tension that radiates in Harry’s wake as he moves about the kitchen. Harry’s shoulders are hunched up around his ears, and his jaw is clenched against whatever emotion he’s trying so desperately to hold back.

“Still no leads?” Draco asks.

Harry shakes his head roughly, then throws himself into a chair. “Can’t talk about it,” he says gruffly.

“Can’t, or won’t?”

“Can’t,” Harry replies, but Draco hears the more accurate _won’t_ anyway.

“Must be very frustrating,” Draco says, as he steps forward and places his hands on Harry’s shoulders. Harry relaxes minutely, his chin dropping and head tilting down to give Draco access. “Is there something you need?”

“Yes, please,” Harry says quietly.

Draco leans down and puts his mouth against the shell of Harry’s ear, draws a shiver from his boy when he speaks. “But do you deserve it?”

“Please,” Harry just repeats.

Drawing back, Draco kneads his thumbs into the muscles at the very base of Harry’s skull. At Harry’s soft moan of pleasure, Draco smiles and stops. “I thought I asked you a question. Do you deserve what you so obviously need?”

Harry cocks his head, looking up and askance at Draco behind him. “Yes, please, sir,” he breathes, a shaky exhalation more than actual words. “I’ve been...I’ve been good, haven’t I?”

Draco turns away to hide his smile. “I don’t know,” he replies casually. “I suppose you’ve behaved passably well lately.”

“Draco, I--”

“--I didn’t say you could speak, Harry,” Draco interrupts him. “If you want to show me how good you are, you’d do well to remember the rules.” He waits until Harry has breathed in and out four times before he turns back around and puts a hand on top of Harry’s head. “Good boy,” he murmurs, sifting his hand through the messy black strands.

Harry leans back into the touch. He’s always so pliant, always so eager to do well, to bask in Draco’s praises. Draco’d noticed it fairly early on in their relationship and used it to enhance their scenes since, but it had yet to grow wearisome or old hat. Harry’s craving for and response to praise fulfills something deep and wanting inside him, and Draco is proud to give him what he needs.

“So very good for me, Harry, aren’t you? Just so very good,” he repeats, as he tugs Harry’s head back slightly so he can watch for the descent. Harry’s eyes flutter closed under the soft ministrations of Draco’s fingers, until Draco hardens his voice just a bit and commands, “Keep your eyes open, love.”

Harry’s mouth parts on a soft whine, but he does as he’s told, opening his eyes. It’s been so long now that they’ve shared this with each other, but the startling trust in Harry’s eyes still makes Draco’s stomach swoop. Sometimes it’s hard not to want to break and just kiss him so sweetly, make tender love to him and wrap him up safe and secure and away from the rest of the world. But that’s not what Harry needs right now. That can come later.

“Go to your place in the sitting room,” Draco orders, pitching his voice low and sultry again. “I’ll follow you when I’m ready.”

Harry nods, then drops to the floor to crawl out of the kitchen. Draco has to grip the back of the chair to keep from reaching out to him. He just always looks so beautiful on his hands and knees. It’s hard to remember to go slow. But this is for Harry. Harry needs this tonight, and Draco has long since realized that he will give Harry absolutely anything he needs--even if he plays hard to get sometimes.

Draco prepares a pot of tea and pours himself a cup. He sifts through the post, answers a letter to his mother and finishes the acrostic in that morning’s _Prophet_. He waits until the evening edition arrives before he gets up, paper tucked under his arm and second cup of tea balanced in his other hand, and leaves the kitchen to join Harry in the sitting room.

Harry’s knelt, as he should be, at the foot of Draco’s favorite armchair, resting back on his heels and with his hand resting lightly on his thighs. His shoulders still show his tension, but they ease as soon as he hears Draco’s movement.

Wordlessly, Draco goes to his chair and sits down. He places the teacup on the end-table and opens the paper. He doesn’t look at Harry for several long moments, as he reads an article about Myron Wagtail’s latest flame, even though he can hear Harry’s soft breathing growing slightly more ragged the more he is ignored.

Draco continues to wait until he can feel the need pouring off of Harry in waves. Then, he says quietly, “Unbutton your trousers, Harry.”

Harry whimpers, and Draco carefully doesn’t look, instead just listening to the rustling of fabric as Harry complies with the order.

“Now take yourself in hand and stroke slowly,” he adds.

It pulls another whimper from Harry, and it’s a struggle for Draco not to look when he hears Harry start to rub himself off.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk, that’s much too fast, Harry,” Draco admonishes. “Match my rhythm. Follow my lead.”

He hears Harry suck in a breath in anticipation, but Draco makes no move to put down the paper and undress. Instead, Draco merely slows down the rhythm of his breathing and continues to read. He smiles slightly when he hears Harry’s soft _oh!_ of understanding and decides that he’ll ignore that little lapse in the rules.

Draco makes it through another two articles before he finally lets himself look at Harry.

Harry’s eyes are glassy, and his mouth is parted open. He’s dropped, and no matter how many times he’s seen it before, Draco’s certain that there’s nothing in the world more beautiful.

He knows it must be agony though, the torturous slide of Harry’s hand in time with Draco’s slow, deep breathing. He knows it must be killing Harry to continue at such a pace when he wants it so badly. When he needs to speed up. Draco smiles, as he slides his hand back into Harry’s hair and scratches his nails lightly over Harry’s scalp. It draws shivers from Harry, but Harry doesn’t falter. He continues to match Draco’s agonizing pace.

“Oh, love, you’re doing so well,” he praises. “You’re so good for me. I know you want more, but you’re such a good boy to be listening so well to me.” Harry makes a strangled noise, and Draco chuckles lightly. “You can speak now.”

“Thank you, sir!” Harry bursts out, half sobbing. “Oh Merlin, thank you. Thank you, sir, thank you. It feels--it feels so--so good.”

“Do you want more?”

“Please, please, yes, please.”

Draco rakes Harry’s scalp again, a little harder, and Harry makes a full body tremor as he cries out. “Do you want to come, Harry?”

Harry squirms a little, as Draco tugs taut on a few strands of his hair. “Yes,” he grits out, “yes, please, please I want to come, please!”

“Can you hold on just a little longer for me? Can you hold on for me, love?”

“Ye--yes, yes, I--I--I can,” he sobs out. His head drops, and he bows forward. His shoulders shake with the tension, but then he draws himself upright again, visibly straining. “I can, for you, I can--I can, sir!”

“Such a good, good boy. Oh, Harry, you’re doing so very, very well,” Draco says, drawing his hand down and letting it rest on Harry’s cheek.

Harry leans into the affection, grinning widely and looking at him with unfocused eyes. “Thank you, sir, thank you.”

“Can I have a color, love?”

“Green,” Harry whispers immediately. “Green, green, so green, please, Draco, please!”

Draco laughs lightly again. “Okay, okay, just a little longer. You can do it. Now, match my rhythm. You said you could do it, and I know you can. Just match my rhythm again.” He then inhales and holds his breath for a count of ten and exhales just as slowly. He knows he won’t be able to keep that pace for very long, but he knows that Harry can do this. His Harry can do anything he asks.

Harry moans desperately, but slows his hand down. He closes his eyes and frustrated tears leak out the sides. But he keeps it up because Harry is such a good, good boy.

Draco loves him so much. “Merlin, you’re so good for me,” he sighs. “I’m so proud of you.”

“Tha--thank you,” Harry stammers.

“Now come for me, Harry,” Draco orders. “Come for me. You’re such a good boy, you deserve it.”

Harry cries out with relief and gratitude, and it only takes a few seconds of a quicker rhythm to have him coming hard into his hand and onto the floor in front him. His body bows forward again, as he works his cock until he’s spent, choking out ragged breaths and wordless cries of pleasure.

Draco reaches for him after a few seconds, tugs him up and pulls him into his lap. He wraps his arms tightly around Harry, lets Harry tuck his head under Draco’s chin, and kisses Harry’s hair. “You did so well for me. You’re always so good, Harry. You’re always so good to me. Thank you, Harry. Thank you for being so good for me.”

He keeps up the stream of praise until Harry’s shivering stops, and he starts to surface again. But the sentiment will never grow stale.

Harry’s so good for him and always will be. And it’s a gift Draco still wonders why he deserves.


End file.
